


Silver Lining

by methylviolet10b



Category: Basil of Baker Street - All Media Types, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, Prompt Fic, seriously brain WTF?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The old umbrella was a welcome find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

>  Written in response to JWP #1 over on Watson's Woes. Today's prompt was a picture (see below).  
>  **Warnings** : Oh so very cracky! No disrespect to the original source material intended. There are also some tangential references to ACD canon, specifically "The Musgrave Ritual." **And absolutely no beta.** This was written in a complete rush. You have been warned.  
> 

  
  
JWP #1: Picture  
  


 

  
Had any humans been about on that dreary downpour of a day, they might well have taken notice of the old umbrella, open as it was, its handle wedged into a knothole at one end of the rickety railing of the disused pier. After all, an umbrella is a welcome find when the skies open and the clouds empty their bellies.  
  
Doubly so, when your body despises water from the roots of your fur to the very tips of your toes, no matter what your opinion might have been earlier that morning.  
  
I crouched miserably on the half-rotted timbers, unable to control my trembling. My companion sat bolt upright under our chance-found shelter, appearing as slim and alert as ever, his keen eyes taking in everything around us.  
  
At last I found my voice. "Basil?"  
  
"Yes, my dear Dawson?" He did not look at me, or even blink. Somehow that made our predicament all the worse, and yet it loosened my tongue as nothing else had.  
  
"Basil, this is impossible!" I spluttered. No, truthfully, I _hissed_ , the sound utterly natural to my transformed tongue and mouth.  
  
"And yet manifestly it is not. Remember, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. So Mr. Holmes has said, more than once, and he is the world's greatest detective, so it must be true." His eyes – the same, and yet so changed – flickered down to stare at me. Despite myself, I flinched, seeing the terrible slit pupils, the alien stare of our worst predator. As always, Basil observed my reaction. His voice gentled until it was very nearly a purr. "And no matter how improbable it seems, that old gypsy-mouse told us the truth when she claimed the Mousegrave Ritual's cheese-knife was cursed, for here we are." His tail lashed once before neatly curling around his forepaws. "We are indisputably cats, Dawson."  
  
I felt the fur rise all along my back. "I am well aware of it, Basil." I tried to calm myself. "Did she say how long the curse would last?"  
  
"No, but the rhyme of the ritual itself suggests an answer. We were not attempting to steal the Crown Cheese of Charles the First, were we, Dawson?"  
  
"Good heavens, no!" My claws dug into the soft wood at the ridiculousness of the idea. "We would never do such a thing!"  
  
"Of course not," Basil agreed. "We were merely attempting to find it, or more precisely the crown and jeweled gold case in which it resided, on behalf of the Mousegrave heir, little though he understood the importance of his own family-ritual. And as that is the case, we ought to be free of this…inconvenience…by the time the sun rises over the oak on the Mousegrave front lawn tomorrow."  
  
Despite my best attempt at keeping a proper British gentlemouse's stiff upper lip, I could feel my whiskers droop. "So long?" I sighed.  
  
Basil's head lowered. "I am sorry for it. I should have been more cautious."  
  
"Never mind, Basil. A day as a cat…well, it couldn't have been dreamt of, dear fellow, much less prevented. At least we're dry, and the rain looks as if it might slacken off soon. And no one saw what happened to us, thank goodness."  
  
"True." Basil still sounded quite low.  
  
I struggled to find words to lift his spirits. "Really, it's a once-in-a-mousetime's chance to observe the habits and doings of the feline world."  
  
"Hm." Basil sat up even straighter, and his eyes regained their usual keenness. "Just so! That's a very keen bit of reasoning, Dawson. We should take full advantage of it, just as soon as this dratted rain stops."  
  
"Thank you, Basil." I ducked my head modestly, only to quickly look up again as the sight of the river-water below made me decidedly uneasy. I had no fear of the water beyond what any reasonable gentlemouse might have in usual circumstances, but as a cat, I was as frightened of it as I would be of a cat, were I still a mouse.  
  
Cat and mouse! I froze as the idea sparked others in my brain.  
  
"Dawson? Are you sure you're quite all right?" Basil asked, noticing my distraction.  
  
"Yes, Basil. I was just thinking that if we should happen to stumble across Ratigan or any of his associates while we're in these forms…"  
  
Basil's pink tongue flicked out and licked his chops. A moment later, and he sprang to his feet.  
  
"Come, Dawson! Rain or no rain, we must be on our way! The prey's afoot!"

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted July 1, 2013


End file.
